iStill Hurt
by ElfinElina
Summary: After the Incident that happened a few months ago, Freddie is still hurting. He hasn't told anyone what happened that night, but Sam and Carly will stop at nothing to find out the truth. Chapter 7 :D
1. Suspicions

_ He was walking down the street, alone, but that didn't bother him. He had traveled this way a million times before on his own. But what did bother him was the fact that it was 8:00 pm and pitch dark. He always heard people telling horrible stories about kids his age being abducted and never found again because they had gone out on their own...but what was he thinking, he was being paranoid._

_"Don't think about it," he told himself. "It could never happen to me."_

_ But something felt different. It was a weird feeling, like someone or _something _was watching him. Every alley way he passed made him feel apprehensive and he sped past each one. He started walking faster and faster, until he was almost running, hurrying to get home. He gradually slowed down and stopped, feeling stupid. "I'm just gonna end up like my mom," he thought. "I'm gonna freak out at every little thing and 911's gonna be on my speed dial." _

_Shaking his head, he relaxed some and walked at an even pace. His apartment complex was in sight and he didn't have to hurry to get home; his curfew was, after all, nine._

_ That's when he saw it. A hulking figure slouching in front of the last alley that he had to pass. He kept and eye on it but he just kept walking. He passed the figure. and kept going for a few more steps, then let out a sigh of relief. _

_ Then, a few steps later, just as he felt completely safe again, he was grabbed from behind. He felt hot breath down his neck and shivered, and panic was threatening to take over_. _"Where do you think you're goin', kid?" a gruff and non-too-friendly voice growled in his ear. _

_"Home," he answered, in the bravest voice possible._

_"Is that so?" The man laughed smugly and drug him back to the alley way. No one could see them now. The man had him under his control. _

_ He was pushed against the wall, hard. Breathing was close to impossible with the heavy weight crushing his chest. The man's breath smelled revolting, a sickening combination of alcohol and tobacco. He felt like he was about to puke. "This can't be happening, this can't be happening..." he screamed in his head._

_Suddenly he felt cold, rough hands being pushed down his pants. "Oh god no please don't let this happen this isn't real..."_

_ "Oh yeah, you like that, don't ya?" the man snarled, his voice lusty_. _The hands pushed under the last layer of clothing and the boy whimpered in fear. He had never been this scared in his entire life. The man was touching and groping and his nails were scratching and it was horrible and he was hurting so much...there was fog closing in around him...and the man laughed...and...and...._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Freddie Benson shot straight up and bed and buried his face in his hands to keep himself from screaming with frustration. Nightmares of the Incident had plagued him every night for months. He got, at the most, two or three hours asleep every night. Most nights he forced himself to stay awake for fear of going to sleep.

The combination of lack of sleep and the horrible memories resulted in changes in his personality. He was more irritable, and the slightest things could piss him off to no end. His grades were slipping, and he sometimes refused to go to iCarly rehearsal or even speak to his friends. Carly and Sam had hired a new tech producer to come in on days when Freddie didn't. show up. It was as if he didn't care about anything or anyone. He only remembered one time when he had changed so much in a short amount of time, and that had been when his dad had died in the truck accident.

But Freddie did care, a lot. He cared that iCarly had gone down the drain. He cared that he was being so harsh to his friends. They noticed, he knew they did. But whenever they tried to talk to him he would just turn on his heel and walk away.

He wasn't mad at them, he was mad at...Him.

He did want to talk to someone, he really did, he just was afraid that he would break down and be a complete mess in front of Carly, or even worse, Sam. He knew it would give her a legitimate reason to call him a baby, moron, dork, or something of that nature.

But the truth was, Sam _was _the one that he wanted to tell most.

No matter how much she insulted, demeaned, or humiliated him, he had never found it in him to hate her. They had been best friends, once.

Before Carly had moved there.

And because she had family problems herself. She had told Freddie about her dad abusing her before he moved away, when they had been friends. She had cried about it in front of him and he had never once made fun of her for it. She had said that the weight of it all had been killing her, and that was exactly how he felt now. But he just...didn't know.

Ugh. Life was so confusing.

But he did know one thing: he had to tell _someone._

Soon.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Carly and Sam were standing in front of their lockers on Monday morning, talking about, of all people, Freddie. They were both worried (as much as Sam hated to admit it).

"I've never seen him like this," stated Sam. "And I've known him longer than you have." She didn't sound too concerned. "I'll bet he JUST realized that he has no chance with you whatsoever and is depressed about it. Huh? Am I right?"

"Sam," sighed Carly. "That may very well be a possibility, and I have no doubt in your intuitive sense of the male creature, but this is serious. I mean come on. Freddie has Fs in almost every class. Does that sound Freddie-ish?"

Sam shrugged.

"And he's been missing iCarly, AND he's barely talking to us, AND he looks like he hasn't slept in months."

"And your point is...?" Sam replied.

"My point is, THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH HIM!"

"Do ya want me to talk to him?" Sam asked boredly.

"Will you promise not to insult, laugh at, punch, or hurt him in any way shape or form? It could be something really serious. You never know." Carly said cautiously. She knew that Sam was good at worming things out of people, but it was also a well know fact that she was pushy and aggressive.

"No promises, but I'll try my hardest to make you proud," Sam replied in an overly-cheery, little kid kind way.

"Good Sam," Carly said, and they both made their way to first period.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	2. An Unexpected Appearance

The following night, Tuesday, was iCarly rehearsal. Freddie debated with himself for hours in front of his bedroom mirror whether to show up or not. He decided, against his better judgement, to show up and make an attempt to be a little more...Freddie-ish. Better to be distracted with iCarly than to sit at home with an unending supply of things to think about.

He sighed and emerged from his room. "Mom, I'm going to Carly's," he called, not knowing whether or not his mother was home. To be honest, he genuinely hoped she wasn't.

Mrs. Benson appeared in the kitchen door. _Just my luck_, he thought, sighing internally.

"You...you what?" she asked with an air of confusion.

"I said, I'm going to Carly's."

"But...why?" his mother was either thoroughly confused or thoroughly shocked.

"Because iCarly rehearsal is tonight," he replied without much enthusiasm.

"Oh," she said. "Ok. Um...don't stay over there too late." She immediately picked up her usual overprotective tone.

"'Kay. See you later."

Freddie walked out the front door feeling horribly guilty. Had he really changed so much that his own mother was surprised when he left the house?

He knocked on Carly's door, and let himself in when no one answered. "Carly?" he said. "Sam?" They were no where in sight.

"They're upstairs," Spencer called from somewhere to his right. "They started about a half hour ago."

"But rehearsal always starts at six," Freddie called back.

"I guess they changed it," came the reply. At least Spencer wasn't talking to him like he'd grown three extra appendages.

"Oh. Ok. I'll go ahead up then."

Freddie was halfway up the stairs when Spencer said, "They'll be glad you decided to come. I am."

He looked down and saw Spencer standing at the foot of the stairs. Freddie didn't know what to say, so he tried a smile that felt more like a grimace and started back up the stairs. He saw Spencer shake his head slightly as he rounded the corner.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam was standing in front of the little tech station up in the iCarly studio, watching video clips. Carly was down in her room doing who-knows-what. They were supposed to start rehearsal about half an hour ago, but Carly had went downstairs, and Sam hadn't taken any initiative to do anything productive. Plus, they're substitute tech producer had cancelled at the last minute.

She clicked on a video of the three of them-Carly, Freddie, and her- that Spencer had filmed when they hadn't been paying attention. She watched Freddie mostly, remembering the way he used to smile and laugh just like her and Carly. She noticed how his eyebrows came together as she insulted him, and how his eyes lit up as he thought of the perfect comeback.

She smiled as she watched the three of them turn in unison to discover Spencer standing there with the camcorder.

Her smile fell. Sam remembered that day; it was about a week before Freddie had gone all emo and mysterious. Stupid Freddie. Didn't he care that iCarly was suffering because of him, or rather, his absence? Didn't he care that she now had no one to insult? Didn't he care about anything?

She moved over to the window and thought about when her dad used to abuse her. She remembered how Freddie had been there almost every night and how he had never thought any less of her.

It was funny how a friendship could change so much.

As much as she hated to admit it, Sam wanted to help Freddie in the same way that he helped her all those years ago. She knew he was hiding something big, and that he needed to talk to someone, but she also knew that he was too stubborn to ask for help. Just because they weren't "best friends" anymore didn't mean she had forgotten everything she had learned about him when they were.

Sure, Carly was a pretty great friend, but she could never come close to replacing the kind of friendship that Sam used to have with Freddie. No one could ever replace that.

Sam cursed herself for thinking so sentimentally about Freddork. _What's done is done_, she told herself, but it wasn't like she could just close her heart to all those old feelings.

Stupid, blood-pumping organ.

The soft squeak of door hinges startled her out of her reverie. She looked over, expecting to see Carly, but she was taken aback to see Freddie standing timidly in the doorway.

"Uh...hey," he said softly, like he was afraid to talk at a normal volume.

She just stared at him stupidly. A thousand emotions flooded through her; a spark of happiness, confusion, and a twinge of regret upon seeing how tired he looked. But what surprised her the most was the anger that she felt. What gave him the right to ignore her and Carly and then just show up again, uninvited? She knew she was being stupid, and that she should be ecstatic, but it just didn't seem right.

"What are you doing here?" Why do you look so exhausted? What's wrong with you?

He showed very little emotion, but she could see the hurt in his eyes. Not just from her rude greeting, but from something far deeper that she couldn't figure out.

"I just thought I'd come to rehearsal," he said, so soft it was almost a whisper.

Her eyes followed him as he strayed to the tech station, opening the laptop and running his fingers over the keys.

She was about to say something when Carly burst into the room.

"Sam, I just had an idea for a new segment and I wanted you to-" she stopped mid-sentence as she saw Freddie standing there. "Freddie?" she said, something close to relief in her voice that Sam didn't miss. "W-What are you doing here?"

"Is it unacceptable for a tech producer to come to rehearsal?" he said with a hint of annoyance. He was still focused on the laptop. Sam grinned slightly.

"Well, no, but we had someone coming if you don't want to stay."

"He cancelled," Sam said, speaking for the first time. Carly's eyes met Sam's and she raised her eyebrows. Sam shrugged.

"Well, Freddie, uh, the new ideas for the show are on the website if you want to look at them. We put them up for people to vote for." Carly said.

"I know," Freddie replied. "I've been on the website a lot."

The rest of rehearsal went fairly smooth. Sam and Carly rehearsed the most voted for ideas and Carly tried to include Freddie as much as possible. Seeing as he only spoke when spoken to made it a little bit difficult. Sam said nothing to him the entire time; rather, she just watched him. He was quiet, withdrawn, and his mind seemed to be elsewhere. It disturbed her.

Carly wrapped up rehearsal and said, "Well, it's great to have you back, Freddie." She gave Sam a meaningful look. Sam nodded slightly.

"Yeah," Freddie said. "It was nice to get out of the house for a while. One can only take so much mom."

Carly smiled slightly and she walked out, brushing his arm softly as she passed. Sam didn't miss the way he flinched away when she touched him.

Sam tried to find the best way to start the "Talk" as she liked to call it. She played the Good Cop card first. "So, Fredward...what's up?"

"Not much," he said, his voice soft again. "Same old, same old."

"So...nothing bothering you?" she said.

"Nope."

"Nothing at all...?"

"Not that I'm aware of," he glanced up at her with an I-don't-want-to-talk look.

Sam whipped out the Bad Cop card."We both know something's wrong. Now spit it out

before I beat it out of you!"

"Sam," Freddie said calmly. "Nothing's wrong."

"Oh, come ON!" Sam was genuinely mad now. "F's in every class, talking to no one, not doing iCarly...that doesn't sound like nothing to me!"

Freddie shook his head and closed the laptop. "You wouldn't understand." He turned to leave when Sam said, "What wouldn't I understand? Me, of all people?"

She knew he understood what she meant. There was no way he could've forgotten all the nights that had passed between the two of them. He just shook his head again and walked out the door. "You wouldn't understand," he repeated.

"FINE! Be that way!" Sam yelled as he closed the door behind him. "But I know you haven't forgotten!" She hung her head as she hear him descending the stairs.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Later that night, Freddie was sitting on his bed, with a pen and a notebook lying across his lap.

When he and Sam were younger, they used to write letters to each other. They were about things they didn't want they're parents to know about, or things they didn't want people to overhear in conversation. He learned about Sam's abusive dad in one of her letters to him.

He bit his lip. Was he really about to tell Sam everything that had happened? Sam, whom he hadn't had a real conversation with in over a year?

Yes, he decided with sudden determination. He was.

Freddie set his pen to paper and began to write.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Yay! Next chapter!! I forgot to tell you that the idea for this story came from song called "Dear Friend" by Stacie Orrico. :] There really shouldn't be a smiley face, cuz it's a sad song, but w/e.**

**AND I just watched iKiss!! It was pretty great :]**

**I'm going to use this chapter to replace the author's note chapter, as I know that it is frowned upon in most societies.**

**Reviews are very most welcome :]**


	3. Hesitations and Awakenings

**A/N:**

**Ok guys, here's the next chapter. It's midnight and I finally finished it, so I decided to just go ahead and update :) I really haven't read it over much, so if you find any glaring mistakes, please feel free to tell me.**

**reviews are very most welcome :)**

* * *

Sam decided to stay over at Carly's for the night; she had no desire to deal with her mother. She couldn't help but keep mulling over Freddie's failed attempt at nonchalance, and the way he'd said, "You wouldn't understand." Words spoken in defeat.

If he didn't want to tell, then she didn't want to know. If she repeated that enough, she'd believe it eventually. "Fredweird's just going through a mid-dork crisis," she told Carly after he'd left the apartment in silence.

"Did you even talk to him at all?" Carly had said, sighing.

"Yeah, I asked if something was bothering him, but you know Freddie. Won't admit something's wrong even when it's out there for the world to see," Sam defended. She left out the "you wouldn't understand" part. That was too much for her to explain.

"Really?" Carly asked, clearly skeptical. "That's not the Freddie I know."

"Well, then you don't know him very well," Sam said under her breath.

Carly frowned. "What?"

"Nothing," Sam said quickly. "Nothing."

When she finally drifted off to sleep that night, Freddie's face followed her into her dreams.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The shrill ringing of Freddie's alarm clock startled him out of his dreamlike state. He'd never officially fallen asleep, he'd just sort of forgotten he was awake. The notebook and pen were still lying across his legs, but the paper was now filled with writing. Tearing out the pages, he carefully folded them into a small rectangle, and wrote Sam's name on the front.

He rolled out of bed and shrugged on a shirt and the closest pair of jeans he could find. It was still dark in his room. Oh, how he hated the dark. On his way out the door, he shoved the letter into his pocket before he could have any second thoughts about it.

Freddie glanced around before leaving, wondering where his mother was. He vaguely remembered her telling him about a promotion she had recently received, and that she would be going to work early in the morning, before he left for school.

Which, he realized, left him without a ride. He suddenly realized he didn't remember how he got to school each morning.

He shut the door behind him and locked it, aware of every action.

_I guess I just walked,_ he thought to himself. Not being able to remember this small detail made him feel strange, and he couldn't describe it. The best thing he could come up with was the term "awakening."

He started down the stairs when the image of an alley came unbidden into his mind. Not just an alley, _the_ alley. Just thinking about it filled him with a fear so strong he couldn't breathe normally. There was no way he could ever walk past it. It would be too much. Oh, no, he was not walking to school this morning.

_Skip_, his brain told him.

_No_, he replied. He needed to give Sam the letter.

The answer came in the form of Carly and Sam. They both emerged from Carly's apartment, having a friendly argument about something. When they spotted him, Freddie thought about how stupid he must look: standing with one foot on the stairs and one on the landing with a dumb expression on his face.

"Hey," he said, surprised at his own boldness. "Um...can I get a ride with you guys? My mom's on a new work schedule, so..." He couldn't believe he'd actually started a conversation.

"Uh, yeah," Carly said, seeming genuinely happy to see him. "Sam's mom is coming to pick us up."

Sam just stared at him with a blank expression, and looked away when he tried to meet her eyes. He thought about what she had said last night: "I know you haven't forgotten!"

No. He hadn't forgotten.

Carly noticed the silent exchange and said, "Well, we better go. Sam's mom isn't exactly patient."

Sam was still silent, but Carly filled up the time with meaningless chatter. She asked him how he was doing, what was new, anything to fill up the awkward silences. She never asked if something was bothering him, and he was grateful for it.

Once they were all in the car, Freddie was able to just sit and observe. Sam started a conversation with Carly about something that she knew he wouldn't know anything about, therefore avoiding any contact with him. He didn't care, though. Watching the rain stream down the windows, he realized how much he'd missed the sight. He listened to it pounding on the roof, fantasizing that he could hear each little drop hit the rusted metal. It was a sad sound. The sky was crying the tears that he couldn't.

Freddie didn't even notice when they arrived at the school until something touched his hand. He flinched away automatically, a million thoughts coursing through him at once. Sam looked at him with a mixture of pity and anger before pulling her hand away and climbing out of the car.

The letter was suddenly very heavy in his pocket.

When they walked into Ridgeway, Carly gave him a little wave before going with Sam to their lockers. He returned it half-heartedly and headed to his own locker.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam noticed how very aware Freddie looked that morning. Not enough to be considered normal, but more than he had been for the past few months.

_Maybe he really did just go through a phase_, she thought. _Maybe I was right._

Still, this explanation didn't seem to match up with everything. There was just something else, a missing link so to speak, that she couldn't place.

Example: he'd flinched away when she'd touched his hand this morning. That seemed out of place if he was just going through a phase. He had done the same thing the previous night when Carly had touched him. It seemed he was afraid of being hurt.

She immediately thought of her experience with abuse. Could that be it? Freddie being abused. That might explain the whole flinching thing, but it didn't sound right either...though Mrs. Benson's tick baths were extremely unpleasant, Sam didn't think they would count as abuse.

Sam went through the rest of the day thinking of all the possibilities to explain Freddie's behavior. Rape, but boys weren't usually victims of rape, so she didn't think about that one too much. Maybe he'd killed someone and was feeling guilty about it. She even considered a bigfoot attack before she gave up.

She'd been thinking about Freddie all day, and hadn't even realized it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Freddie thought about the letter all day, and all the possible ways to deliver it. He could "accidentally" drop it by her locker, leave it on her chair before she came into class, or slip it in her backpack when she wasn't looking.

But when the final bell rang, it still sat in his pocket, like a 5 pound weight that pulled at his subconscious.

_Maybe tomorrow,_ he thought.


	4. Facing Fears

**A/N:**

** Next chapter :) i'm concerned, they keep getting shorter and shorter. Beware: this chapter may depress you.**

**thanks to all my reviewers :D**

**ryannelovesyou: it's coming! you just have to be patient ;) and thank you for helping me with my writer's block.**

**as i've said, reviews are very most welcome.**

* * *

Tomorrow came and went. By Friday, Freddie had decided not to give Sam the letter, although it continued to linger in the back of his mind. He had a feeling it wouldn't stop nagging him until it reached its destination.

Freddie had been riding with Carly, Sam, and Sam's mom to and from school since Wednesday. Friday afternoon, however, Carly said, "Sam and I are goin' to the Groovy Smoothie after school. Would you want to come with us?"

Freddie froze in the middle of pulling something out of his locker. If he went with them, he would have to walk by the Alley. Doing this would surely send him into a panic attack. He couldn't let either of them see him like that.

"Uh...no, I have to stay after school for something," he said quickly, hoping not to sound too desperate to avoid the situation. "I'll just walk home when I'm done." Even as he said the words, his heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest.

"Ok," Carly said, not seeming to think anything of it. "I'll see you Monday."

"Actually...I was wondering if maybe I could, you know...come over and hang out with you guys?" Freddie said, knowing he would need a distraction later tonight.

"Sure," Carly replied, and a smile lit up her face. "Come over whenever!"

Freddie tried to smile. "See you whenever."

An hour later, he found himself standing in front of Ridgeway, trying not to panic.

_I can do this_, he thought to himself, not even close to believing it. _I can do this_. He started out slow, trying to think of anything but the one thing that threatened to overtake him.

He surprised himself by walking almost three quarters of the way home before becoming fully aware of the certain doom that lay before him. In the distance, he could already see his apartments, which also meant that he could see the alley, if he had chosen to look at it. His eyes darted around, desperate to focus on anything but that one point, as his feet continued to move forward. It seemed that his mind was now separate from his body.

_...the man's hands withdrew, and for a moment the boy felt that greatest surge of relief he would ever feel in his entire life. But that relief was short lived as he was ripped around and shoved back against the wall, face first._

Another forty steps, and he would pass it.

Just forty more steps.

_...he felt frigid air and rough hands in places where they shouldn't be as his lower body was bared. The bricks scraped against his thighs and he imagined bloody stripes along the wall in front of him._

Twenty steps. He forced his legs forward, faster now.

_...a pitiful sound emerged from his throat, but it was hardly audible over the man's disgusting breathing. Suddenly, he felt a horrible piercing pain between his hips, and he blanched as he realized what was happening._

Just ten more steps.

He could make it. He had to.

_...he forced his mind away from his body, away from this place, anywhere but here, but he couldn't ignore the weight that pounded him over and over again. Then as suddenly as it came, the weight was lifted, and he lay on the ground in a crumpled heap, bruised and broken._

Freddie was running.

He ran all the way to the apartment complex, up the stairs, and down the hallway. When he reached his door, he fumbled with the lock. He slammed the door open, and slammed it shut, not caring whom he disturbed.

Then he slid to the floor, buried his face in his hands, and sobbed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam sat on Carly's couch eating something she'd found in their fridge. She hadn't spoken to Freddie all week, and she almost believed that she didn't care what was wrong with him. She knew he was supposed to be coming over, but she didn't intend on trying the "Talk" again. It was a waste of time on her part.

He did end up showing up, around eight. She would have said that his eyes were rimmed red, had she not known better. Freddie was not one to cry.

However, she did watch and listen very closely, just as she did every day. To her, it seemed as if he was making too much of an effort, and there was just enough control in his voice and his expression...

Who was she kidding? She did care. Why else would she read into him so closely?

The night passed quickly, without any major happenings. Freddie only stayed for about an hour, but he announced that he was going to be back on iCarly, permanently, and he went over some new ideas with Carly. It was a very mundane, tedious task that required too much brain power to think about much of anything else. Sam didn't think this was an accident.

Throughout the hour, she didn't speak to him, and he didn't speak to her.

Yet when he made to leave, she felt her heart sink a little lower in her chest.

"Bye guys," he said, with a quick glance at Sam. Then he was out the door and gone.

Sam sighed and trudged up stairs before Carly had a chance to notice she was gone. She went up to the studio and froze when she saw a little white rectangle lying on the tech station. It had her name on it, in Freddie's writing. She understood immediately.

They hadn't written letters to each other in almost three years.

With shaking fingers, she opened it and began to read.

_Sam,_

_I don't really know how to explain this without sounding like a joke..._

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Freddie made his way back to his apartment. His mother was home, which meant he would have to make this quick.

Stepping into the bathroom, he locked the door behind him and flung open the medicine cabinet. He found what he was looking for and slid to the ground. This felt good, this felt right, in a way that he couldn't explain. The blade slid easily across his skin, tracing a shallow line with surprising familiarity. Red tears welled up and spilled out over his wrist.

Sam would read the letter soon. She had to; he'd left it in a fairly conspicuous place. Maybe things would be better soon. Even as the blood ran down in little rivulets on his arm, he willed the thought to be true.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam sat back, stunned. She'd read his letter over and over again countless times. The contents of it, however, had still not fully registered with her. Several words stood out to her: worthless, filthy, ashamed. All words that he used to describe himself.

She'd had no idea.

She knew she had to go fix things for him, like he had done for her. But if she couldn't fully fix them, she could at least try. It was all she had to give him.


	5. A Gash With No Scar

**A/N:  
Next chapter :) i'm seriously loving my reviewers now, more are welcome :)  
I added a little Mrs. Benson smidget in the middle on this one, tell me if you think I should keep putting little things in like that for characters other than Freddie or Sam.  
thanks guys ^^**

**Ryanne: it's starts now ;)**

* * *

Sam was still holding the letter as she sprinted down the stairs. She stopped herself, however, took a deep breath, and folded it back up. There was no way Carly could ever see this, no matter how unfair that seemed. No one had read any of their letters except the two of them. It was an unspoken agreement, and one she felt obligated to keep.

She started back down the stairs at a more reasonable pace. When she reached the bottom, she continued on without stopping to the door, but was intercepted by Carly.

"Where are you going?" she asked, clearly surprised.

"I have to go talk to Freddie." She didn't look Carly in the eyes.

"Did you find out-"

"Yeah," Sam cut her off.

"Hang on. I want to come with you."

"No!" Sam wheeled to face her. She sighed, seeing the shocked expression on Carly's face. "No. I'll explain later."

She was out the door before Carly could protest any further. She knocked on Freddie's door once and let herself in. Mrs. Benson stood in the kitchen. "Sam!"

"Yeah, it's me. Listen, where's Fredward? I really need to talk to him. Like, now."

"Uh..." she stuttered for words for a moment and said, "He went to his room a few minutes ago..."

"Ok, thanks," Sam said, and made a beeline for the hallway.

"If he's asleep, don't wake him up. He never sleeps anymore," Mrs. Benson called after her.

"With good reason," Sam muttered.

She very nearly broke down the door to Freddie's room in her haste, but she forced herself to stop with her hand on the knob. Realizing she had no idea what she would say, she suddenly felt nervous, a very rare occurrence for her. She slowly turned the knob, and eased the door open.

She was saved from any unplanned conversation. Freddie was asleep, curled into a tight ball with one hand extended limply, palm up. It was obvious he'd not planned to fall asleep. His shoes were still on, and the covers were folded neatly at the foot of his bed. Mrs. Benson's doing, she was sure.

She looked at Freddie with new eyes, with understanding eyes. His situation was not much different from what hers had been. She couldn't believe he'd kept it secret for as long as he did, and wondered why he hadn't said anything earlier. A pang of guilt punched her in the gut as she realized she was the reason. He was afraid of what she would think.

Sam's maternal instinct took over as she picked up the blanket from the end of the bed and draped it over him. Looking down momentarily, she saw the slashes on his wrists, and squeezed her eyes shut against tears. She opened her eyes and looked again through slightly blurred vision. This had been going on for a long time; these cuts were layered over the scars of healed ones.

Anger was not her issue. How could she me mad at him for doing something that she had once done herself? It was sadness that enveloped her. Sadness because she finally realized how badly this was hurting him.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and brushed her fingers over his forearm. He stirred slightly, but didn't wake. "Sorry for everything."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Mrs. Benson came into the room about an hour later to find them both asleep. Freddie was still curled up on the bed, and Sam was on the floor next to it. A smile pulled at her lips as she closed the door quietly behind her.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A subtle pain woke Freddie. He realized he'd been asleep for a good length of time, something that hadn't happened in over four months.

He uncurled from his protective ball position and glanced at his wrist, the source of the pain. The angry red lines stared up at him as they stung. Rolling over onto his back, he finally noticed the sleeping Sam on the floor below him.

She was sprawled out across what minimal space there was, her hair covering half her face. At first, Freddie didn't know what to think, then realized that she'd gotten the letter. It was clenched tightly in her fist. He didn't know whether to be happy, nervous, or relieved, so he felt all three. But the deep sadness that had settled itself in his gut was not gone, only temporarily muted.

He reached out with one hand and shook her shoulder. "Ugh, just five more minutes," she mumbled. His lips curved upward. Typical Sam. She blinked slowly, and her eyes focused on his face but showed no sign of recognition. She was always slow when she first woke up.

"Hey," he said softly, as awareness slowly but surely crept back into her features.

Her eyes lit up suddenly. "Freddie! Oh my god, I'm so sorry, I had no idea. Why didn't you tell me earlier? And why did you-"

"I'm fine," he lied. "I just wanted you to know what happened. You don't have anything to be sorry for."

She glanced at his wrist, hanging over the edge of the bed. "You're not fine. And I have everything to be sorry for."

"Name one thing," he said, and there was skepticism in his voice, something he hadn't heard in a long time. Sam got up, stretched, and settled next to him on the bed, leaning against the headboard.

"I didn't try hard enough," she said quietly. "I let you do _this_." Grabbing his hand, she flipped it over and traced the inside of his wrist gently. Her face contorted with an alien expression that was hard for Freddie to look at. "You're not worthless," she said meaningfully. "You're not filthy. And you shouldn't be ashamed. It wasn't your fault." He said nothing.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and leaned down to rest her head against his shoulder.

The last two years were suddenly erased in the that moment. All the arguments, all the lies, all the things that ripped them apart were suddenly nonexistent.

He knew, and he had a feeling she knew too, that there wouldn't even be a scar from those two years. It wasn't like a gash that had been slowly and painfully stitched together, leaving an ugly mark long after it was healed. It was as if the gash had never happened in the first place.

But of course, he had to ruin the moment. "How much does Carly know?"

"Nothing," came Sam's muffled reply. She had her face pressed against his collarbone.

"Shouldn't we tell her?" he asked. Carly was his friend, too.

Sam sighed. "Yeah. But not right now."

"Yeah," he whispered, closing his eyes. "Not right now."

She curled up against his side and promptly fell back asleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


	6. Report

**A/N:  
yay, next chapter. sorry this took so long, i've had no time to write.  
this is another one that i haven't had much time to read through, so please feel free to correct me. i know that the Carly POV insert in this chapter doesn't really fit, but it will in the next chapter.  
reviews are very much welcome.**

* * *

Carly was furious, naturally. She'd stayed up half the night waiting for Sam to come back to her apartment. Why had Freddie told Sam before he'd told her? They _hated_ each other, with a passion.

But then Sam had just rushed over there, with only vague answers to her questions. She hadn't called or texted, hadn't come back to explain, she just stayed over there. She thought at least Freddie would have the decency to let her know what was going on, but apparently she was out of the loop.

She went to sleep around three in the morning with a scowl on her face.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sam woke to a peculiar sensation. Her head seemed to be resting on a moving platform, though the movement was slow and even. And this definitely wasn't her or Carly's bed. Then everything came back to her in a rush, and she opened her eyes to find her head on Freddie's chest.

Trying not to jostle him, she pushed herself upright and groaned slightly at the head rush. She smiled as she looked at Freddie's face. It would take several freight trains and a small explosion to wake him up now. Once he was out, he was _out_.

She glanced over at the clock on his night stand: 8:00. She didn't know whether his mom would be up or not, and she didn't know how she would explain why she'd barged in and stayed the night in her son's bed while he was in it. It was sure to make for an interesting conversation.

Even though it wasn't necessary, she opened the door as quietly as she could and shut it again. She crept down the hall, and around the corner, and of course Mrs. Benson was standing in the kitchen, though she had her back to Sam.

Sam took a deep breath and steeled herself for the impending conversation.

"Oh, hey, Mrs. Benson," she said, walking out into full view and raking her fingers through her hair.

She turned and smiled at Sam. "Good morning. I'm making breakfast; I hope you like waffles."

"Oh, you know I eat anything that doesn't eat me first," Sam replied. She was stunned that Mrs. Benson wasn't furious with her, but she decided to roll with it for a while.

"So, how did you sleep last night?" Mrs. Benson asked, turning back to the stove.

Sam couldn't believe this was happening. She was acting downright pleasant about this.

"Uh...fine, fine. I sleep like a rock." Totally untrue. Someone could drop a pin in China and she would be awake. Freddie knew that. She'd woken when Mrs. Benson had come in the second time, just after she'd moved to the bed, but she was a good faker.

"Good." That was all she said.

Sam was seriously disturbed. "So...you're not gonna flip out or anything?"

"No. Why would I?" Mrs. Benson sounded like she had no idea what Sam was talking about.

"You know...me and Freddie...in the same bed...I thought you would've had a fit. I thought any mom would."

"No, it seemed harmless enough." She sounded so nonchalant. "And besides, you used to do that all the time anyway."

Sam knew what she was talking about. She used to sneak out of her house on particularly bad nights and come here, to stay with Freddie.

"Yeah," Sam countered. "But it wasn't for me this time."

"I know," Mrs. Benson said, immediately quieter. "It was a relief to finally see him asleep."

"Yeah," she replied. She was really bad with serious conversation.

"So..." Mrs. Benson started again. "Why had he been acting this way?" Her nonchalance was forced now.

Sam chose her words carefully. "I don't think I'm at liberty to say. It's his decision whether he tells you or not. To be honest, I don't think he would on his own, but I might get him to come around."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Is it...serious? Did he do something that would get him in trouble?"

"No," Sam said. "It's nothing like that. He wouldn't tell you because he's too embarrassed. He feels like it's his fault, but it's not. Not in the slightest." Her eyebrows furrowed as the words popped back up: worthless, filthy, ashamed.

"I guess I could understand that," Mrs. Benson said. She wasn't going to force it. A smart move, in Sam's opinion. One more awkward conversation avoided.

She looked down as a stack of waffles seemed to materialize in front of her. Her stomach growled audibly and Mrs. Benson laughed. "There's plenty. Take as many as you want." She turned went back to her room.

Sam was just finishing off her sixth when the door to Freddie's room opened. His head poked around the corner, and Sam almost laughed. It reminded her of a turtle.

"She's not out here. Chalk one up for Sam."

He half smiled, but didn't say anything. He came and sat next to her where she was at the bar leading to the kitchen.

"No need for the silent treatment," she said, looking him up and down. He had on a sweatshirt, and she could easily guess the reason.

He shrugged. "I don't have much to say any more."

"Well," Sam said. "You'd better find something to say, 'cause we're not just gonna let this go without talking about it."

He kept his eyes on the ground.

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

He took a while before answering. "I couldn't. I thought you wouldn't take it seriously. And I wasn't ready. People don't think things like this happen. I didn't think they did until..." his voice trailed off into nothing. The silence was heavy between them.

"But you could've. I wouldn't have pushed you away. Am I now?"

"Well, no, but I thought you hated me. Everyone does."

Sam felt horrible about herself.

"I don't. I couldn't. Not ever," she said quietly.

His face was turned away from her. "It was awful," his voice came out in a whisper. "All I wanted to do was die. I could've, afterwards, very easily." He gestured to his wrist, subtly. "But I didn't. Something stopped me."

She reached out and laid her hand on top of his. "Everything happens for a reason," she said. It was something she lived by.

His breath hitched in his throat audibly, and he tried desperately to hide the tears that she knew were falling. "I knew this would happen," he said, his voice thick, and then he couldn't speak anymore.

Sam got up from her seat and dragged him up with her, leading him back to his bedroom. His hand clung desperately to hers, as if it were the only thing holding him on Earth. She pulled him down next to her and wrapped her arms around his shaking shoulders. She held him tightly, in the kind of embrace that could hold your guts in if you had a gaping hole in your chest.

His face pressed into her neck, and she could feel his tears. "Shh," she said softly. "It'll be okay." She didn't say "it's okay", because it was obvious that nothing was okay. But if there was one thing she'd learned, it was that things always did turn out okay, one way or another.

He eventually cried himself out, and she could tell it helped slightly, but he didn't want to look at her. Sam took his chin in her hand and forced him to look her in the eyes. "There's nothing wrong with that. It's okay to cry." She sounded like Mr. Rodgers, but it seemed the only thing she could say.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but didn't argue.

"We need to tell Carly," he whispered.

She nodded.

"I don't want to," he said.

"You could let her read the letter," she said softly, even though the suggestion was pointless.

"No," he said, his voice suddenly stronger.

She nodded again. Those were private.

"I'll be right there with you," she said, as if that made a world of difference.

"Promise?"

"Yeah," she said. "Promise."

***

Later, after Freddie had fallen asleep again, Sam had taken the opportunity to get out of the house. There was enough information in his letter, and she had an idea. She walked into the Seattle police department, and couldn't help but feeling like she was betraying him in some way.

The lady at the front desk look nice enough. "What are you here for, hun?"

Sam seemed to have difficulty forcing the words past her lips.

"I'm here to report a rape."


	7. Report, Part II

**A/N:  
mhm, here comes chapter seven. not really very important, the next one will be a little more detailed.  
thanks to all my reviewers :D**

**more are appreciated :]**

* * *

Freddie knew almost immediately when Sam had left, even though he was asleep. Her presence could be compared to a comfortable weight that, once lifted, made him feel exposed and vulnerable.

Freddie always knew when he was asleep. It was as if nothing changed, except that he wasn't aware of the outside world. He was just sitting alone in his head, deciding whether to let his churning thoughts turn into a dream or whether to wake himself. And since Sam was gone, he decided to stay under. He vaguely wondered why she'd gone, and where. But then the thought was gone, like a single leaf on the wind.

That was the thing about his semi-aware sleep state: he couldn't control his thoughts, which was usually why the nightmares started. By the time he'd processed a thought, it was already gone and impossible to recall, and sometimes the thoughts decided to last longer than others. He wished he had just a little bit more awareness, just a little more mental power to push the unwanted thoughts away.

Flashes of the previous night up to that point decided to play over in his head, but that's all they were. Flashes. Too short to conjure up any emotion what so ever. If only life were like that. Sam's face flashed up, and by sheer will power, he grabbed on to it and let dreams overtake him.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Oh, you poor thing, I'm so sorry," the lady at the police department said, with a look of pity on her roundish features.

Sam shook her head. "It's not for me." She hesitated for a moment. "It's for my friend...he was too embarrassed to come in for himself." A half-truth, but a good one at that.

"Oh," the lady's voice was softer now, understanding. "I see. Do you have a description of the offender?"

Sam fingered the letter in her pocket. _He was a good head taller than me, I couldn't stop him...his face was bearded and disgusting....he must've weighed about 300 pounds._..

"Uh...male, about 6'3, 300 pounds, with a beard." It all came out in a rush.

The lady scribbled it out on a legal pad, then looked up at Sam.

"Tell your, uh, friend, that he may have to come in for a line up. We've had something close to this description reported several times in the past few months."

"Uh..." This threw Sam for a loop. She had never intended him to know about this, let alone get involved with it. "Are you sure you want him to come in?"

She looked at Sam critically, but in a motherly sort of way. "He doesn't know you're doing this, does he?"

Sam looked up, and felt she couldn't lie to this lady. "No,"she muttered. "But I had to do something."

The lady nodded and looked down. "I suggest you tell him. It may be hard, but we can't be sure we have the right guy unless he can confirm it."

Sam nodded mutely. She scribbled out her cell phone number on the paper that the lady was holding out for her. "That's my number. I'm Sam Puckett. Call me if you need me...us...to come in."

"Will do," said the lady, and smiled at her. "Good luck."

Sam just nodded again.

As she was walking home, she mentally kicked herself for being so stupid. Of course they might need him to come in. Of course they would. She hadn't even thought about it.

She stopped by Carly's before going back to Freddie's apartment.

She knocked three times, and Carly opened the door, looked her up and down once, and promptly slammed it in her face. Sam sighed. She had been expecting that.

She knocked again for about five minutes after that, knowing that eventually Carly would get annoyed enough and answer the door. Of course, she was right.

"What do you want, Sam? What's so important that you decided to tell me now?" Carly was seething.

"Look, no need to be so mad. I was just going to tell you that Freddie and I'll be over later to explain everything."

Carly rolled her eyes. "Yeah, whatever."

Sam let out another exasperated sigh. "Be over whenever."

"See you whenever," Carly said, the familiar phrase now laced with ice. She slammed the door again. Sam winced, but in a slightly melodramatic way.

"Ouch," she said softly, and walked through the door across the hall.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Something was shaking Freddie, but he couldn't tell whether it was real or not. His first instinct was to yell something unintelligible and flinch away from it, whatever it was. Then he heard Sam's voice: "Come on, Fredward, wake up, it's just me."

His eyes snapped open and he was breathing hard, the by-product of an unpleasant dream, but whatever it had been about had already slipped his mind. He focused on Sam's face and was pulled back into reality: Sam was here, he was home, he was safe.

"Come on," she said softly. "We're going over to Carly's."

"Why?" he said, still a little disoriented.

"Because I told her we were coming."She seemed to be avoiding the question.

"Why?" he repeated. He didn't like where this was going.

Sam sighed. "Well, you yourself said that we needed to tell her so...I kinda told her we would come explain everything." She sounded like she'd committed a crime.

"No, no, no, no," Freddie said, already imagining what could possibly play out over at Carly's. "No, I don't want to do this."

"I'll be there. I promised you I would be."

"No," he said sitting up. "I can't. I'm not ready." He didn't want a repeat of what had happened earlier that morning. He'd only intended to tell Sam, carry on with his life, and let the rest of the world wonder why he'd gone through that "phase" as he called it. And in his mind, the rest of the world included Carly.

Sam sat down and leaned against him. "You told me. Why stop there?"

Freddie fought back. "Did you ever tell Carly about...you-know-what?"

"Yes, actually. A while ago. I think you should do the same." She sounded smug, but in a soft, convincing way.

"Did you tell her about...you know...us?" he said, quietly.

"No," she said, equally as quiet. "We can do that together."

They sat in silence for a while. As much as he hated the idea of telling Carly, he couldn't deny that she had a right to know. She was as much his friend as Sam was.

Sam got up and grabbed him by the hand, dragging him with her. "Come on," she said. "Better sooner than later."

He sighed, but didn't argue.

Next thing he knew, he was sitting with Sam in the Shay's livingroom.

"Well," Carly said, standing over them. "Start explaining."

Her tone made him cringe and even less willing to tell her anything. Sam reached over and squeezed his fingers, pressing their palms together. Since when had they become this close again? He squeezed back, concentrating on nothing but the warmth of Sam's hand in his. Then he took a deep breath to steel himself, and started talking.


	8. I'm Proud of You

**FINALLY! I'VE UPDATED! *lights stream down from the heavens and dramatic music plays* I just hope people haven't forgotten about this story and will still read it...I'm sorry this chapter is so sucky. It's my first one in over a year. I PROMISE and I mean SWEAR that I will continue to update. I had to reread my own story to remember everything that had happened thus far. Let's just hope this story continues to be good.**

* * *

Carly stared down at their hands, laced together, and couldn't believe what she was seeing. What the hell happened in the past twenty-four hours? A feud like Freddie and Sam's couldn't just be resolved like that, could it? Freddie still hadn't spoken, and she realized just how much she wanted to know what was going on. She mentally sighed and vowed to keep an open mind just as Freddie started to speak.

"I…she…we…this is gonna be hard to believe," he started with. He had absolutely no idea how he could convey all of the past events and present emotions in a way that Carly could understand. "but Sam and I used to be…were…are really close." He glanced up and saw her eyebrows come together.

"Sam said she told you about her dad. You're only the second person to know about it…I was the first, about 5 years ago. She and I used to be best friends. I mean, _best_ friends. When she told me about her dad, I wanted nothing more than to help her be okay, whatever that meant. She used to come over to my apartment and stay the night, sometimes four or five times a week. We were practically attached at the hip." He paused. He didn't know how to not make this sound rude or bitter. "But then you got here…and that changed. I liked you, and Sam became your best friend to make me jealous, and things just went downhill from there. You know the story."

Sam winced as he told Carly about how she tried to make him jealous and how their friendship fell apart. She never thought he knew the real reason why she befriended Carly. Turns out she was wrong.

Freddie continued. "Anyway, a few months ago…something happened…and I didn't want to tell you because it was embarrassing, or Sam because I thought she didn't care anymore." He paused and drew a deep breath before getting to the important stuff. Sam squeezed his hand again. "I…I was…I…" He couldn't get the words out.

"It's okay. You can tell her." Sam said softly.

He screwed his eyes shut and took the plunge. "I was r-raped…on my way home from a meeting at school." He heard Carly gasp slightly. "He drug me in an alley and…" His voiced trailed away into nothing.

"Freddie…" Carly said softly. "I had no idea…I…are you okay?"

He shrugged, feeling tears come to his eyes and not being able to look at her.

"No," Sam whispered. "He's not. But he will be." She looked at Carly meaningfully. "He told me, and we're okay now. And he told you. We'll get him through this together. No matter how long it takes." She put an arm around him and pulled him close to her side. Carly came and sat and his other side, rubbing his back and his emotions overcame him for the second time that day.

Carly and Sam looked at each other over their sobbing friend. They were both on the same side again.

Sam looked at the time and realized it was getting late. Eventually, Freddie calmed down enough that Sam was able to take him home. Carly gave him a long, meaningful hug on his way out. "Thank you for telling me, Freddie." She said. "I know it was hard for you." He tried to smile, but was unsuccessful. Carly felt a stab of pain.

"I'll be back," Sam mouthed to her, and Carly nodded, closing the door behind them.

Freddie and Sam finally made it back to his bedroom. He was almost asleep as soon as he hit the pillow, so Sam covered him up. She leaned down to press her lips to his forehead and whispered, "I'm proud of you, sweetheart." He was asleep before the words left her mouth. She gazed down at him for a moment before heading out the door and back to Carly's.


	9. Author's Note with a Surprise Inside

So it's been a loooooooong time since you guys have heard from. But I'm sorry to tell you that I'm not going to continue this story…well, you may have already guessed that. My interests have changed and I'm working on one for The Big Bang Theory, so if any of you are interested in that, check it out when it comes out. My new rule is that I will have a pilot chapter to gage whether or not I should continue.

Since I'm not continuing "iStill Hurt", I'm opening the door for someone to finish it for me. If you are interested, message me and I'll talk to you one-on-one. I would like to keep the story on my page, but I will most definitely give credit for anything written from this point forward. If you're interested, let me know! I love this story too much to see it go unfinished.


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